pson repeated, "but if I AM a church member, I wouldn't be so
sorry if it ruined Eliza Black. Well, good-day, Mrs. Manstey; I'm glad
to find you so comfortable."

So comfortable--so comfortable! Left to herself the old woman turned
once more to the window. How lovely the view was that day! The blue sky
with its round clouds shed a brightness over everything; the ailanthus
had put on a tinge of yellow-green, the hyacinths were budding,
the magnolia flowers looked more than ever like rosettes carved in
alabaster. Soon the wistaria would bloom, then the horse-chestnut; but
not for her. Between her eyes and them a barrier of brick and mortar
would swiftly rise; presently even the spire would disappear, and all
her radiant world be blotted out. Mrs. Manstey sent away untouched the
dinner-tray brought to her that evening. She lingered in the window
until the windy sunset died in bat-colored dusk; then, going to bed, she
lay sleepless all night.

Early the next day she was up and at the window. It was raining, but
even through the slanting gray gauze the scene had its charm--and then
the rain was so good for the trees. She had noticed the day before that
the ailanthus was growing dusty.

"Of course I might move," said Mrs. Manstey aloud, and turning from the
window she looked about her room. She might move, of course; so might
she be flayed alive; but she was not likely to survive either operation.
The room, though far less important to her happiness than the view, was
as much a part of her existence. She had lived in it seventeen years.
She knew every stain on the wall-paper, every rent in the carpet; the
light fell in a certain way on her engravings, her books had grown
shabby on their shelves, her bulbs and ivy were used to their window
and knew which way to lean to the sun. "We are all too old to move," she
said.

That afternoon it cleared. Wet and radiant the blue reappeared
through torn rags of cloud; the ailanthus sparkled; the earth in the
flower-borders looked rich and warm. It was Thursday, and on Monday the
building of the extension was to begin.

On Sunday afternoon a card was brought to Mrs. Black, as she was engaged
in gathering up the fragments of the boarders' dinner in the basement.
The card, black-edged, bore Mrs. Manstey's name.

"One of Mrs. Sampson's boarders; wants to move, I suppose. Well, I can
give her a room next year in the extension. Dinah," said Mrs. Black,
"tell the lady I'll be upstairs in